Page 120 of Between Love and Loathing

“Which is?”

The doctor sighed. “A kidney disease that can potentially lead to kidney failure, dialysis or a transplant could be—”

Were they aware of the amount of stress these visits could induce? “How can you check if I’m capable of being her donor?”

“The risks are quite high.” He frowned at me.

“I’m aware. The risks are quite high of losing her, and without her, I lose myself. Schedule the tests for me.”

When she woke, I was shown again how Clara was stronger than most gave her credit for. And she navigated most situations with more grace than I ever could. She balanced me with it, made me see the world had more to give if I allowed for it. Yet, sometimes, I balanced her too.

The doctor was there again, asking about the loss of blood in her fingers.

“I’ve had numbness in my fingers before, probably on and off with the rashes for three or four years but I wasn’t diagnosed then and I just didn’t—”

“You just didn’t what?” The doctor’s tone was condescending, out of place, and definitely out of line.

I cleared my throat and glanced over my glasses as I closed my laptop slowly. My voice came out low. “Watch the way you speak to my future wife, doc.”

“Excuse me?” he stuttered out.

“She may be sweet, but I’m not. I have no problem putting you in your place.”

“You do realize I’m the head doctor in this—”

“I don’t care at all who you are. Don’t make me report the way you talk to patients.”

That shut the fucker up. He apologized and explained that if her symptoms were showing years ago, her kidney function had probably also been declining then. When he left, Clara chided me, “Dominic, he’s probably tired. It’s petty to say you’d write in a complaint. What if he lost his job for that?”

“He just might. I do my job well, and I expect others to do theirs well too.” She sighed. And later that night when her mother and sister requested a visit, I finally stood up. “Absolutely not.”

She glanced at me like she was considering it, and then I saw the little fighter in her come out. “What he said.” There she was, brilliant and beautiful. “I don’t want to see them. I’m not sure how they even found out.”

“Right.” I considered if the press had found out something. “And we’re done here, actually. I want private nursing set up at home. And that’s it. A doctor’s visit once a week,” I commanded.

The nurse explained, “Oh, you can’t just request—”

“This is a Hardy hospital, correct?” I was willing to throw my name around now.

“Um, yes.” She shrugged like the name didn’t matter.

It did.

“I’m Dominic Hardy. So, tell your management what I requested and get it done. Or the management of your management, akamewill start having people fired.” Her mouth hung open for a minute too long, so I commanded, “Now!” before she left the room.

“Jesus, Dominic. I can’t live with you,” she whispered, and when I turned to her, I took in her beautiful red strands of hair and her freckled face where the makeup had been worn away.

“Why the hell not? You already were.”

“Right, but I’m—” She waved at herself. “I’m a freaking burden now.”

“A burden?” I shook my head at her. “Clara, I’m taking you home. You tell me who you think the burden is then.”

She wrung her hands most of the time and stayed quiet.

Before we got out of the SUV though, I grabbed her hand. “If there’s something you don’t like, tell me, okay?”

She squinted at me. “Okay?”